


the first time you saw me

by mfalfanclub



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Strangers to Lovers, but it's not a 5+1, draws from 5+1 structure, i just wrote this so i could talk about jaehyun's face, not much happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mfalfanclub/pseuds/mfalfanclub
Summary: Taeyong sees a hot guy on the subway. Of course, a hot guy on the subway is all he'll ever be. Right?
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 24
Kudos: 225





	the first time you saw me

[1]

Taeyong didn’t remember the first time he saw the subway guy. By the time Taeyong actually registered him in his brain, the guy’s face was already familiar. This was because, probably, Taeyong had already seen him several times without fully noticing him. When he finally did notice him, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed earlier.

The subway guy—Taeyong still didn’t know his name then, of course—was standing directly beneath the sign on the train that showed the name of the next stop. Taeyong was still a good twenty minutes away from his stop, but he looked at the sign every few minutes anyway, hoping the train would be further up the route than it was. “ _Next stop: Hyehwa_ ,” said the mild female voice over the loudspeakers. “ _Next stop: Hyehwa_.” The crowd shuffled as people stepped towards and away from the doors. As the faces rearranged, Taeyong’s eyes fell on one that was close to the scrolling digital letters on the sign.

He had seen the man before, just like he had seen several other commuters who took this line at this time. The man was looking at his phone, just like the other commuters. He had earphones in, just like the others. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. Why couldn’t Taeyong stop looking at him?

The train jolted to a stop and people stepped around the man as the voice said, “ _This is: Hyehwa Station. The doors are on your left._ ” The man didn’t look up from his phone. He wore a shirt and tie, both blue, but the tie was loosened. His top button was unbuttoned. His hair was parted over his forehead and little wavy, as if it had been styled twelve hours ago but had lost its shape after a day of motion. His face was at once sharp and not sharp. Like someone had carved him from stone and then cast a spell that brought his angles to life. Warm, soft, full life. He had soft-looking cheeks and soft-looking lips and eyelashes that Taeyong could see all the way from here. He wore one visible stud earring. His pointer finger curled around the top of his phone had a silver ring with black designs on it.

Suddenly the man raised his face. Taeyong quickly looked up at the sign as if that was what he’d been focused on all along. _NEXT STOP_ , it said, _MIASAGEORI_. Miasageori? They were already at _Miasageori?_ Taeyong had just stared at a stranger for ten minutes. More. He blinked down at his phone, restarting the song that was playing. He had missed his favorite part. No—he’d missed three whole songs on his playlist. He went back and back and back until he was satisfied. When he got up the nerve to glance towards the sign again, the man was gone, and it was almost Taeyong’s stop.

[2]

After that, Taeyong noticed him every day. Well, almost every day. Sometimes the timing was off. Once when Taeyong got out of work late, there was no subway guy in sight. One day when he walked further down the subway tunnel than he usually did: no subway guy. Both times, Taeyong made sure to leave work on time and board on car 1 the next day. And both times, he managed to get a glimpse of the subway guy. Almost immediately, it turned into a daily amusement. Like an inside joke with himself. He’d step on the train and scan the faces, and he’d spot the downcast eyes, the full lips, and in his head he’d cheer: _subway guy!_ He always returned his attention to his phone quickly afterwards. He never stared like he did that first day. It was just fun to find him. It made the commute home a little less boring.

One day, as Taeyong’s eyes were wandering around the car, he saw the subway guy coughing into his elbow. He was coughing hard, like he had something stuck in his throat. When he finally stopped, he rubbed his knuckle in one eye and held up his phone again. The next day he wasn’t on the train. Not the day after that either. At first Taeyong was just disappointed that he didn’t get to see him for a few days. Then he wondered if the subway guy was sick. The thought made him sad somehow.

Taeyong was even sadder when the guy still hadn’t appeared by the end of the week. He figured maybe the subway guy’s commute had been altered, or he just had stuff to do. Taeyong hoped that was the case. Even if the guy was a stranger, Taeyong didn’t like the idea of him feeling sick.

So it was at once a relief and a sort of victory to see him on Monday, seated, at the end of the row, his eyes on his phone, looking sharper and softer than ever. Internally, Taeyong laughed. There he was! Subway guy! Looking like the picture of health with his round little cheeks and his shirt fitting him stupidly well. He was fine. Taeyong didn’t have anything to worry about.

Taeyong cast around for a spot to stand. His internal laughter quickly dwindled when he realized that the nearest open place was directly next to the subway guy, in front of the doors at the end of the rows of seats. He vacillated for half a second. Was it weird if he went and stood next to him? Should he push through the crowd to stand in the bigger space near the other doors? He found that his feet were carrying him to the closer spot. The subway guy’s eyes shifted up at his approach, hitting Taeyong’s and then quickly blinking down to around the level of his knees. Taeyong focused on his phone. He turned around and leaned against the doors.

This was fun. Subway guy had looked at him. And now Taeyong was standing right next to him. Close enough to see subway guy’s phone screen if he peeked, though of course he wouldn’t. It occurred to Taeyong to wonder if he’d ever strike up a conversation with him. Well, probably not, not if the only times he ever saw him were at seven o’clock in the evening when he was tired and hungry and dying to get home for dinner. That was fine. He could just admire subway guy from a distance. Maybe they would eventually become tacit not-acquaintances, like the people you always see around but never acknowledge aside from an occasional slight nod or glance. That would be cute. Not to mention endlessly entertaining.

Taeyong was sending Doyoung classic literature memes on Twitter when the disembodied voice announced that they had arrived at Suyu Station, and the subway guy stirred in his seat. Taeyong stopped typing. He watched out of his periphery as the guy put his phone in his pocket and pulled his bag into his lap. After a moment, the man stood up. Taeyong shifted towards him so he could take the open seat. Too late, he realized that he was blocking the man’s path. Taeyong smiled in apology, trying to shuffle to the side. The subway guy, not quite meeting his eyes, tightly smiled back before going around him. Taeyong watched him step through the doors.

By the time Taeyong looked around, an old lady was lowering herself into the empty seat. _Damn it_ , thought Taeyong. He opened Twitter again.

[3]

The subway guy always got off the train at Suyu. That was only two stations away from Taeyong’s stop, Changdong. He hadn’t really noticed how close they were, how much of the commute they shared, until the time he got in the guy’s way as he was disembarking.

There were more things Taeyong hadn’t noticed about him. One was that the subway guy smelled nice. Really nice. Taeyong discovered this one day when the subway guy was falling asleep on the train. The man’s eyes kept falling closed and then shooting open. Then his eyes were closing _and_ his head was nodding, and when his head nodded too far, it jerked back up and he opened his eyes again. He would blink several times and stare down at his phone, but inevitably his eyes would close again, and his grip on his phone would loosen.

Taeyong started to fear that the guy’s phone would slip out of his hands and hit the floor. When the woman sitting next to the guy stood up, Taeyong dove into the empty seat. From here, he could catch the phone if it fell. The subway guy’s eyes were closed. He was nodding forward again.

Taeyong couldn’t help but wonder why the poor guy was so tired that he couldn’t even stay awake. Had he been up all night? Had something bad happened? The guy’s head pulled back before he fell forward, but his eyes didn’t open. A few minutes later, he had started tipping. In Taeyong’s direction. Little by little. Taeyong sat as still as he possibly could. He didn’t want to disturb him. He also didn’t want to give away the fact that being this close to the subway guy was making him unreasonably nervous.

Taeyong felt the pressure of the man’s elbow against his arm. He took a deep breath. Relax. The subway guy was just some dude. A hot dude, sure, but still. There was no reason to get all flushed and warm inside. Except, maybe, for his cologne, which Taeyong could now smell. It matched his appearance—approaching extravagance, maybe, but also tender somehow.

The subway guy’s neck was tilted to an extreme angle, and Taeyong was in the middle of a daydream, when the train braked and Taeyong felt the man’s full weight lean against him. The next moment, his head fell onto Taeyong’s shoulder.

Taeyong just about stopped breathing. The subway guy was warm, and smelled like a god, and, yes, he was more soft than sharp. But his head was only on Taeyong’s shoulder for a second before he snapped awake, pulling back and looking around. His bewildered eyes met Taeyong’s. “Sorry!” he said. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right, I don’t mind,” said Taeyong.

“I’m sorry,” the man was still saying. He shook himself a little.

Taeyong wanted to ask if he was okay, but a few people nearby were eyeing them, so Taeyong just said, “Don’t worry about it.” The man held up his phone in front of his face and stared intently at it. Taeyong returned to the playlist he was making.

It wasn’t long before the man’s phone lowered to his lap, and his hand loosened. Taeyong snuck a glance at him. His head was back and his eyes were shut. His lips were slightly parted. Taeyong hoped the guy might lean into him again, but he didn’t. He just breathed evenly with his chin tilted up.

They passed Miasageori, and then Mia. The loudspeaker announced that Suyu Station was the next stop, but the subway guy didn’t move or open his eyes. A few minutes passed, and the train began to brake. “ _This stop: Suyu. Suyu. The doors are on your right._ ”

Taeyong looked at him again. The guy always got off at Suyu. Was today different? Was he going somewhere else? Or was he so exhausted that he couldn’t hear the announcement?

The loudspeaker finished announcing Suyu in all the languages, and the train stopped. The guy’s eyelids didn’t even flutter.

Taeyong said nervously, “Ummm,” but there was no response.

The little jingle played to indicate the doors opening.

Taeyong put a hand on the guy’s arm. “Hey.”

The man jolted awake. “Huh?” he said as the doors slid open and people began to file out.

“Sorry, uh,” said Taeyong, “is this your stop…?”

The man’s head spun and found the “ _SUYU”_ sign. “Oh!” He jumped up, scrambling for his bag and phone. “Thank—thank you!” he said over his shoulder, stretching a hand in Taeyong’s direction in a wavelike gesture.

“No problem,” said Taeyong, but the subway guy had already dived through the doors, and they were closing behind him.

[4]

When Taeyong got on the train the next day, he kept his eyes on the floor. He was still embarrassed from yesterday. Was it weird that he knew the guy’s stop? He should have just let him sleep. The guy would have woken up eventually and gotten the inbound train back to Suyu. Now Taeyong could never look at him again, or he might get more weirded out.

An old man pushing through the crowded car yelled, “Get out of my way!” and Taeyong jumped. The old man elbowed Taeyong’s backpack. Taeyong let him go by. As he did, he saw the subway guy standing a little further away. The guy was looking right at him. Taeyong lowered his eyes quickly.

Eight or ten seconds passed. The space between Taeyong and the person next to him shifted. Then there was a voice.

“Excuse me?”

Taeyong spun around. The subway guy stood right behind him, and he was smiling at Taeyong, a little uncertainly. Taeyong recognized his voice from yesterday. It was sort of deep, but in a soft way.

“Hi? Hello,” said Taeyong, yanking out his earphones and bundling them into what would become a hopeless knot later, “hi.”

“Hi,” said the man. “I just wanted to thank you for waking me up yesterday.”

“Oh!” said Taeyong. “No, of course, it was no problem.”

“Yeah,” said the subway guy, his eyelashes sweeping down and up as he glanced from the floor back to Taeyong, “I definitely would have missed my stop otherwise, so, like, I appreciate it.”

Taeyong swallowed and tried to steady himself. It wasn’t helping that the subway guy smelled just as good as he did yesterday. “No, yeah, I—I’m sorry if it was kind of strange that I knew your stop, um—I had seen you get off there before and I…”

“Oh, no,” said the subway guy, “no, it’s okay. I’ve seen you on the train before too, so, yeah, I figured you had just seen me get off there. Yeah.”

Taeyong exhaled. “Oh, cool.” The subway guy nodded. His smile was declining into a politely tight-lipped expression. Oh, no, no. Taeyong couldn’t let the conversation end here. He had to reel that smile back.

“You were really passed out,” Taeyong said, and like magic, the round-cheeked smile reappeared. The guy had dimples— _dimples,_ god, how had Taeyong not _noticed?_

“Mm hm. My own fault,” said the guy. “I was up the whole night before.”

“Yeah?” said Taeyong. “Why?”

The subway guy hesitated. It occurred to Taeyong, with a strike of horror, that he had just asked a stranger what he did at night instead of sleeping. He blushed and opened his mouth to try to change the subject, but the man spoke first.

“I was uh,” he said, “writing.”

He was almost sheepish, as if admitting to bingeing a TV show or playing hours of video games. He twisted the ring on his first finger as he said it.

“Oh,” said Taeyong. “You’re a writer?”

The man shrugged, lips forming a gentle curve. “Not yet.”

“Ah,” said Taeyong. The subway guy was still twisting his ring. The corner of a tiny tattoo on the inside of one knuckle was visible for a moment.

“Well,” Taeyong said, “when your book is out, let me know so I can get one.”

The man’s smile widened, and he looked down at his hands bashfully. Taeyong’s stomach flipped. Dear god, he was lovely. He wasn’t like Taeyong had thought he would be. Taeyong didn’t know how he’d thought he would be, but it wasn’t this.

“Sure,” the man said. “Your copy’s free in return for waking me up yesterday.”

Taeyong laughed. The man smiled down at his hands. A few seconds passed. Taeyong played with his necklace, trying to think of a way to answer. But no clever remark came to mind, no bantering comment. Everything he wanted to say, everything he wanted to ask, it was too personal. He wanted to know what the man wrote, and he wanted to know what the tattoo on his finger was. He wanted to know about his ring, and whether he was coming from a day job that was separate from his writing, and where he lived and if he had a significant other or wanted one, and what he liked to do for fun and what he wore when he wasn’t in his office clothes and if he had any other tattoos and what his favorite songs were and the brand of his damn cologne. He wanted to know his name. Could he ask that? Was that casual enough? Was it the right moment for it?

If the moment was right, Taeyong realized as he suddenly came back to himself, it had passed. The man was looking at the floor, and his body had turned a degree away from Taeyong’s. His lips were set in a line. The conversation was over. Taeyong had missed his chance.

They stayed like that, no more in each other’s proximity than any of the other passengers standing shoulder-to-shoulder with them, until the woman’s voice announced, “ _Next stop: Suyu Station_.” The man shuffled for his bag. Taeyong looked over out of the corner of his eye, not sure if they were going to acknowledge each other. The subway guy looked up.

“Thanks again,” he said, nodding.

“Of course,” said Taeyong.

The man went to stand in front of the doors. A minute later, the train stopped and the doors opened. Taeyong threw a glance over his shoulder, just in case there was one more goodbye wave or nod, but the man got off the train without looking back.

[5]

Taeyong wasn’t sure if they would nod or smile the next time they saw each other on the train, or if they’d go back to ignoring each other. He hoped they’d smile. Maybe say hello. Maybe the seat next to Taeyong would open up and the guy would sit down there, and their knees would touch a little, and Taeyong could say something cute like, “You’re not going to fall asleep on me this time, right?” and the subway guy would say, “Well, no promises,” and then Taeyong would reply with, “To be honest, I wouldn’t mind,” and the subway guy would say, “Really?” and Taeyong would say, “Really,” and the subway guy would say, “You know, we should see each other someplace that’s not on this train. Can I take you out tomorrow night?” and Taeyong would swoon, “Oh, subway guy, I thought you’d never ask.”

Or maybe they would just polite-blink in each other’s directions and then go back to their phones.

At first, Taeyong didn’t have the chance to find out. The subway guy wasn’t on Taeyong’s train the day after they spoke, and the day after that, he was all the way at the other end of the car. It was a few more days before they were close to each other.

When Taeyong got onto the train that day, a seat opened up almost immediately. He beelined for it. Perfect time, perfect place. As he sat, he scanned the standers for old people to yield the seat to. There were no old people. There was, however, the subway guy.

Taeyong looked right into his face in surprise, and the subway guy met his full-on stare with a few blinks and a half-smile. Taeyong quickly nodded and smiled back, then looked down. Ahh, the staring, why did he always have to stare like that. So unnecessary. He went through a few Instagram posts. Then he realized that this was exactly what he had been afraid of. Polite smiling, returning to their phones. He stole a little glance in the subway guy’s direction. The guy had slung his bag around his front. He was scrawling something on a piece of paper. Oh. Subway guy was writing. He’d probably just been struck by some genius idea that he had to jot down before it left his mind. Taeyong couldn’t bother him now. He was too late to start a conversation, again.

Taeyong was scrolling rapidly through Instagram and internally berating himself when the person sitting next to him got up. Taeyong froze. The subway guy’s shoes moved close to his. Tentatively Taeyong raised his face. It really was happening—the subway guy was sitting down next to him. Taeyong felt his warmth, and smelled his cologne, and tried to will words to leave his mouth. Just a few words. Any words.

“Hi,” he said as the subway guy pulled his bag into his lap.

A winsome, sweet, angel-choir, too-good-to-be-true smile breathed to life on the man’s face. “Hi,” he said.

The smile was a gust of wind and Taeyong was a little sailboat. By the time he slowed down enough to notice how far out to sea he’d gone, the man was looking at his phone again.

Taeyong almost yelled “Dang it!” into the crowd of people. Why did this keep happening? It was all the subway guy’s fault! He was too attractive. His whole thing, his magnetism and his well-deep eyes and his demeanor, it all kept pushing Taeyong off course. And the guy wasn’t even fazed! He was just sitting there with his eyes glued to his phone like it was another day in the life. Typical hot guy. Pretty and oblivious.

Taeyong’s fuming eventually dissipated into wishing that a reason for them to talk would miraculously materialize from thin air. No miracles were apparent. Suyu Station was approaching. The man was shifting his bag to stand up. Then he was giving Taeyong a small nod and going to the doors.

He was already gone when Taeyong saw the piece of paper. It was folded into quarters, leaning against Taeyong’s leg at the edge of the seat. Taeyong grabbed it before the older man taking the seat could sit on it. There was writing on the inside of the paper. Oh no. Subway guy’s genius idea.

Taeyong looked around, but the subway guy was nowhere in sight. The bell dinged to warn that the bells were about to close. Taeyong closed his hand around the strap on his bag, jumped up, and catapulted himself through the doors.

The flying leap was a little unnecessary, as the doors didn’t close for another two or three seconds, but Taeyong still felt like a drama protagonist as his shoe hit the platform. The stream of people broke around him. He weaved through it at a jog. If he didn’t spot subway guy before the crowd split to the different exits at the top of the stairs, he’d lose him.

Taeyong ducked around the line for the escalator and went up the steps two at a time. None of the backs of heads around him looked like the subway guy. Taeyong dashed to the top of the stairs and, lungs burning, ran into the middle of the station.

He didn’t see the man. He looked right, then left. All the passengers were breaking off around him to leave through the turnstiles. There were fewer and fewer of them. And none of them were the subway guy.

Taeyong had just resigned himself to the idea that he’d lost him and was starting to get excited to return the paper tomorrow when he turned around and found the subway guy, bright-eyed, beautiful, coming off the escalator.

“Oh,” said Taeyong.

The subway guy’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of him. He stopped. His face suddenly reminded Taeyong of a rose that opened and closed. Just now it had done both, in only a second.

“Hey! This…” Taeyong held out the folded paper with both hands. “This is yours.”

“Oh…” said the subway guy. He looked slowly from Taeyong’s face to the paper and swallowed. “It’s…?”

“Yeah,” said Taeyong, “you um, you left it on the seat.”

The man took the paper from him and put it in his pants pocket. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

Taeyong’s face was getting hot again. He had expected more of a reaction than this somehow. Not that jumping off the train to return a piece of paper was some grand act of heroism, but the man was barely even smiling. Taeyong missed the big smile, the full smile, the apple-cheeks-and-dimples. What had Taeyong been planning to say when he found him? He had thought of something kind of smooth while he was sprinting up the stairs, but now he couldn’t remember…

“Yeah, thank you,” said the man, inclining his head to the point of bowing, “have a good one,” and he went around Taeyong and headed for the turnstiles. Taeyong stared after him. The subway guy had left before Taeyong could even think of what to say. Taeyong had gotten off the train for him, and he was going to have to get the next train now, and he _still_ hadn’t gotten the chance to ask him his name. This had been the perfect opportunity! The perfect excuse! Why hadn’t he used it?

Taeyong went back down to the platform. By the time he got there, the next train was almost arriving.

[6]

Taeyong missed the days when riding the train with the subway guy was still fun. The little game where he’d wonder on the platform if he’d see him, do a little victory dance in his head when he spotted him, he never did that anymore. And the moments where they stood close to each other weren’t entertaining or exciting. They were just kind of…disappointing.

When Taeyong got a seat and the subway guy ended up standing in front of him, that wasn’t as amusing as it would have been three weeks ago, either. Sure, Taeyong still felt his nearness, but not in a cute way. Mostly just in a pathetic way. The subway guy was obviously trying not stand directly over Taeyong—his feet had shuffled when he’d been boxed into this space—but there wasn’t much room, so the guy just had to stare fixedly at his phone to pretend he and Taeyong weren’t sharing half a personal bubble. Taeyong took the cue and tried to pretend too.

They had been doing that, pretending, for several stops when Taeyong touched his necklace and realized that his charm wasn’t there. He thought it had just traveled too far along the chain, so he felt behind his neck. Nothing. He panicked a little, drawing the chain through his fingers so fast that it stung his neck. Then he unhooked the whole necklace and held it up. No charm.

Taeyong moved his legs, looking between them, then on either side of him. No, no, no, no.

“What’s wrong?” said the subway guy.

Taeyong said, “I lost part of my necklace. It fell off.”

“Oh,” said the subway guy, looking at the floor and lifting up his feet.

“It’s a sun charm,” said Taeyong. He shook his bag. “It’s rose gold, it’s about the size of—”

“I’ve seen it,” said the subway guy. He was looking right and left between people’s legs.

“I had it when I got on the train,” said Taeyong, standing up. He looked behind him on the seat. The young woman on his left shifted her leg and shrugged, while the man on the right ignored him. Taeyong bent down to scan the floor.

“You got on down there, right?” said the subway guy’s voice behind him. Taeyong looked over his shoulder to see the man taking a few steps towards the doors where Taeyong had boarded, checking under the lip of the row of seats. Taeyong tilted his head down and looked with him. A few people lifted their shoes, and a few more gave them weird looks.

“It’s not here,” said Taeyong, squatting now, barely caring that he looked like a dumbass.

“It might have gotten kicked,” said the subway guy above him.

“Yeah,” said Taeyong, straightening up, “it might have gotten kicked off the train when people were leaving. Or it might have fallen through to the tracks.”

“Maybe not,” said the subway guy. “Maybe it’s just on the floor somewhere. You’re sure it’s not in your clothes?”

“Yeah,” said Taeyong, eyes returning to the floor as he patted himself down for the second or third time.

“Maybe over there,” said the subway guy, and they went back past the place where Taeyong had been sitting. As they did, they heard the _ding_ of the doors opening. Taeyong’s heart seized.

“What if someone kicks it?” he said, searching in vain for a sparkle among the moving feet.

“It’s okay,” said the man as the doors slid open. “Maybe it’ll help us see it better.”

Taeyong spun around, not sure which exit to look at. People were getting off, and more people were getting on, and it seemed like all the shoes were shuffling everything up, and he didn’t know where he had already looked. Was he seriously about to cry on the train? Fuck.

“Hey,” said the subway guy, “don’t worry, we’ll find it. You said you had it when you got on.”

God damn it, the subway guy had noticed that he was on the verge of tears. Even better. Taeyong ducked his head. “Sorry.”

“No,” said the guy as the movement around them slowed. “It’s okay.”

The doors closed. The people around them found places to stop. Taeyong quickly wiped at one eye with the heel of his hand. The subway guy was standing close to him. Not subway close, but actually close.

“Thanks,” Taeyong muttered, “it just means a lot to me.”

“I get it.” The subway guy was twisting his ring. He turned around. “Let’s look again.”

“You don’t,” said Taeyong, “have to…”

“Wait,” said the subway guy, stopping. He had barely walked a step. He knelt, reached, and stood up. Then he turned around.

“Oh,” said Taeyong as the man opened his palm.

“This is it, right?” said the man.

Taeyong took the pink-gold sun charm from the man’s warm hand. The white subway light glimmered off the happy little face.

“How,” Taeyong whispered. Then he laughed.

“Thank goodness,” said the subway guy, laughing too. Taeyong had never heard his laugh before. It was like his voice, and like all of him.

“Thank _you_ ,” said Taeyong, “thank you so much. I…I kind of freaked out for a second. You didn’t have to help me.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” said the subway guy. “I wanted to. Besides, you’ve helped me out before.”

Taeyong shrugged. That was true. He wiped his eyes again. He was afraid to put the charm back on the chain, in case it fell off again. He held it up between his thumb and his forefinger.

“How did you—” “Why is it so—”

The subway guy stopped, and Taeyong stopped. They looked at each other. Then Taeyong said, “Sorry, you can—” and the guy said, “Oh, go ahead.”

They had spoken at the same time again. There was that dimply soft smile. Taeyong was blushing, but he didn’t mind.

“You, you first,” said Taeyong.

“Uh,” said the man, “if it’s too personal, then, never mind, but why’s the charm so important to you?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Taeyong, “my mom gave it to me when I was younger. It used to be hers. And I’ve kept it with me ever since.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“Uh huh,” said Taeyong, “it’s kind of like a little…protector…? A little lucky charm. Yeah.”

The man’s smile was so nice. Like something you could fall into headfirst. “I can see that. It looks just how a lucky charm should look.”

“Thank you,” said Taeyong.

“Mm hm.” The subway guy nodded at him. “What were you going to say?”

Taeyong only hesitated for a second. “Oh, just…that you knew what it looked like.”

The subway guy paused, but not for very long.

“Yeah, I noticed it a while ago,” he said. “It’s really pretty.”

He noticed it. A while ago. But he wasn’t the only one. Taeyong had noticed things too.

“What about your ring?” Taeyong said.

The man looked down at his hand. “My ring?”

“Yeah.”

“I got it when I was studying abroad four years ago,” said the guy. “It reminds me of that time.”

“Where were you studying?”

The man opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by the loudspeaker. “ _Next stop: Ssangmun. Ssangmun._ ”

“Ssangmun?” said Taeyong.

The man’s eyes widened.

“Oh no,” said Taeyong, “you—”

Taeyong pointed behind him. The man shook his head and laughed.

“You missed Suyu,” said Taeyong.

The man was waving his hands. “No, no, it’s fine.”

“Because you were helping me with the…” said Taeyong. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s totally fine,” said the man. “No, I’m glad I could help find it. It was worth it.”

“How can I…”

“No worries.”

The thought crossed Taeyong’s mind right then, and he spit it out before it was even fully formed, because he was afraid if he wavered, he’d never say it.

“Well since you’re here,” said Taeyong, “and since I know a place, I mean a restaurant, near Ssangmun Station, can I buy you dinner for the charm? For your help?”

At the sight of the man’s smile freezing on his face, Taeyong continued, “Or if you need to get home, then you can just, like, accept my eternal gratitude and that’ll be—”

“If you’ve got time,” the man interrupted, “dinner would be great.”

“Dinner—” Taeyong stopped. “Dinner would be great?”

The man’s smile had melted back to warmth. “Mm hm.”

“Oh,” said Taeyong. He felt floaty. Did that just happen? Did he just do that? The subway guy’s gaze dropped softly like a feather or a falling star. Taeyong had to stop thinking of him as “the subway guy.”

The guy beat him to it, though. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“It’s Taeyong.” Taeyong wanted to say that he’d been about to ask the same thing, but that would take too long. “What’s yours?”

The train halted and the loudspeaker voice said, “ _This is: Ssangmun Station. The doors are on your right._ ”

The man nodded at the opening doors. “Jaehyun,” he said.

[7]

Jaehyun had studied in the United States for a year in college. He spoke English. He liked to cook. He also liked to watch cooking shows while he cooked. The tattoo on the inside of his finger was a little compass made up of only a few lines. He had a job writing social media posts for a jewelry company. He was working on a novel about a guy whose dream was to be a famous chef.

These were all things Taeyong had learned after getting off the train with Jaehyun at Ssangmun, one station past Jaehyun’s stop and one station before Taeyong’s. That was Tuesday. Now it was Friday. They’d just come out of the movie theater—Jaehyun liked to talk during movies, which was a relief, because Taeyong did too—and they were walking on the stream. It was past midnight. The movie had gone late after dinner. Everything was quiet, even their voices and the trickling of the water.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun was saying, “I think time travel movies are so cool, but I’m not that good at following them.”

“Same,” said Taeyong. “I had to re-watch _Interstellar_ like three times before I understood any of it.”

“I still don’t understand any of _Interstellar_ ,” said Jaehyun, and they both laughed. They were walking close enough for the backs of their wrists to touch occasionally. Taeyong was thinking about taking his hand.

“What about _The Call_ , did you see that?” Taeyong said.

“The horror one? On Netflix?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not that good with horror movies,” said Jaehyun. He said it as if he were admitting something embarrassing. Taeyong could only think how cute he was.

“Would you watch it for the cool time travel stuff?” Taeyong said.

Jaehyun said, “Maybe if I had someone there to warn me when the scary parts were coming.”

They slowed a little. Jaehyun said, “Like, so I could close my eyes.”

“I’ll watch it with you,” said Taeyong, “if you want to see it. And I’ll warn you when to close your eyes.”

Jaehyun’s face had a way of scrunching up when he smiled without meaning to smile. Taeyong loved that. “Deal,” Jaehyun said.

There was something about Jaehyun. Taeyong had never met a person that was so…themselves. The way Jaehyun laughed was so him. The way he wasn’t good with horror movies was so him. The way he walked and talked and stood in front of Taeyong right now with those eyes, all of it. Even the things about him that surprised Taeyong were somehow so Jaehyun. So inevitably, precisely Jaehyun.

“Want to sit down?” said Taeyong.

“On the…? Oh, a bench.”

“Yeah.”

They dropped their bags as they sat. Jaehyun rolled up his sleeves. It wasn’t hot like it had been this afternoon, but the stream was humid. Taeyong still hadn’t seen Jaehyun in anything but work clothes. He hoped he might soon.

“Hey,” said Taeyong, mustering up some nerves, “remember when you dropped your paper on the subway seat last week?”

Jaehyun stopped rolling up his sleeve. “Yeah?”

Taeyong laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, just, like…why did you run away so fast when I gave it back? I was all geared up to, like, ask if you wanted to see each other sometime.”

Jaehyun stared at Taeyong. The misty glow off the stream was soft on his face. “Oh,” he said. “You didn’t look at it?”

“Look at it? No,” said Taeyong.

“ _Ohh_ ,” said Jaehyun again. He leaned his elbows forward on his knees. Then he laughed quietly. “Well this is embarrassing.”

“What?” said Taeyong. “What’s embarrassing?”

“That uh,” said Jaehyun, “that note was for you.”

Taeyong’s mouth opened wide. “Huh?” he said.

“Yeah,” said Jaehyun, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I wanted to ask for your number, but uh…well, I guess you know at this point that I’m a little shy. So I wrote you a note and put my number at the bottom. When you gave it back, I thought you were trying to show that you were, like, not interested.”

“Oh my god,” said Taeyong. “No, no, I thought it was your writing. I thought it was an idea you had written down for your book.”

Jaehyun shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I should have just given it straight to you. I might still have it in my bag, actually…”

“You might?” said Taeyong.

Jaehyun hesitated. Then he shuffled his hand inside a pocket of his bag. He grin-grimaced and pulled out a paper. It was crumpled. “Ugh,” he laughed, holding it out, “god. I feel so ridiculous.”

Taeyong was uncrumpling the note. Above a phone number at the bottom, in handwriting that was looping and slightly self-conscious and singularly Jaehyun, it said, “ _Hi! Sorry if this is a little strange, but I’ve been seeing you on the train for a while and talking to you the other day was really nice, and I was wondering if you’d like to go out for dinner sometime. No worries if not! –Jaehyun”_

Jaehyun’s smile was still half-cringing. “Sorry. It was dumb, I should have just asked you.”

“Jaehyun, it’s so cute,” said Taeyong. He couldn’t stop rereading it. He said, “I could have found out your name last week if I’d just opened it.”

The cringing side of Jaehyun’s smile faded a little.

“You’d been seeing me on the train for a while?” Taeyong asked.

“Huh? Yeah,” said Jaehyun, “yeah.”

Taeyong shrugged one shoulder. “To be honest, I thought for a while I was the only one seeing you.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows drew together over his small smile. “No,” he said. “I’ve always seen you.”

Taeyong kissed him. He surprised himself when he did. He also surprised Jaehyun, who inhaled a little breath of air just as their lips met. Taeyong felt Jaehyun’s surprise, and he almost pulled away. But then Jaehyun kissed him back.

Taeyong couldn’t remember the last time a kiss this soft had felt so strong.

When they broke apart to look at each other, Jaehyun still looked shy, but not as shy as before. He looked the same way Taeyong felt. Something in his eyes had opened like a window.

“Let’s see each other more then,” said Taeyong, keeping his voice low so he didn’t speak too loudly over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

“Okay,” said Jaehyun. He put a hand on the side of Taeyong’s head, slowly, and even more slowly leaned closer to him. Taeyong waited until Jaehyun’s lips were on his and then he cradled Jaehyun’s cheeks in his palms.

[8]

The mid-autumn breeze was cool from Jaehyun’s cracked window.

“Do you remember the first time you saw me?” said Taeyong. It was something he’d been wondering for a few months now.

“Uh huh,” said Jaehyun. Shadow was pooled in the angles of his face. “It was in June. When I started commuting to Jongno.”

“June?”

“Yeah,” said Jaehyun. “You were playing with your necklace. You had the biggest eyes I’d ever seen. I had to, like, actively avoid staring at you.”

“Oh my god,” said Taeyong.

“You can’t blame me, you look like Jack Frost or something.”

“Shut up.” Taeyong shoved his shoulder. “I meant ‘oh my god’ because the same thing happened to me the first time I saw you.”

“It did?” said Jaehyun.

“Well,” Taeyong said, “it was the first time I looked at you, I guess. I knew I must have seen you before, because you looked…familiar, but I couldn’t believe I had never actually _looked_.”

“What do you mean?” said Jaehyun, smiling. The shadows fell off his face and the moonlight hit his cheeks.

“I don’t know,” said Taeyong, “I just felt like I knew your face already, but I couldn’t think of when I had seen you before. And…I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Jaehyun laughed. Then he said, in a very Jaehyun way, “Maybe it was. The first time you saw me. Maybe you just felt like you knew me, even though you’d never seen me before.”

Taeyong pinned a kiss to Jaehyun’s lower lip. “Maybe you’re a romantic,” he said.

Jaehyun said, “Maybe both.”

He accepted another kiss. Then, without breaking it, he shifted Taeyong into his arms and held him. Taeyong felt like he was where he belonged.

“Yeah,” Taeyong admitted when they stopped to breathe, “maybe both.”

**Author's Note:**

> ~~~~~the end~~~~~
> 
> hey love! thank you so much for reading this random little cobbled-together not-5+1, i hope you enjoyed it :) 2021 just started so keep your head up, there's light at the end of the tunnel! everything you're doing is worth it, even when you're relaxing or maybe just doing your best to stay afloat, because you are worth it and you make the world a little more unique just by existing. i'm happy you're here <3 i hope 2021 brings you all the things you hope for and more! happy new year!


End file.
